Just Forgettable[1]

I remember things, but things don’t remember me.

Maybe I have a really good memory, one that allows me to recall even the most mundane moments of my life or hold onto the least important, second-long encounters I have on any given day of the week.

I’m also able to dwell on these memories, which, unfortunately, is how I spend most of my time. 5 months ago I got in an elevator with two girls. They were (and presumably still are) the types that tittered behind phones for most of the ride down to the lobby, but one of them looked at me, and I couldn’t really figure out what that meant. I still can’t, but I’m working on it.

What really confuses me is how memorable I am to other people, namely that I am not at all. I sat next to a girl in an 8^th grade Home Ec class. I introduced myself like a normal person does, but she kept calling me “you” and “kid.” She literally couldn’t/didn’t/wouldn’t be bothered to remember my name. Maybe she was just being an ass, but a lot of people I meet on a regular basis did that to me. Teachers did that. Professors still do that.

I just can’t figure it out. I’ve had conversations with people, not earth-shattering conversations but still the kind of relationship-defining conversation that sticks with you, that I remember quite vividly. Then somehow that conversation comes around again or the person says something about how they don’t know much about me or that we don’t have “real conversations” with each other. Then I say something. Then they realize. “Oh, that was with you?”

I completely admit to the fact that I am probably the weird one in the scenario. First of all, who remembers things like that, at least besides me? More importantly, I realize that other people have lives, lives which are filled with things and stuff. My life is pretty spartan, mostly filled with the few memories I have been able to collect and about which I ruminate ceaselessly.

So I don’t interact enough. I don’t make any impression whatsoever and I’m pushed out of whatever empty space is left in the others brain by the hazy memories of a night at the barrio.

So what does that make me?[2]

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[1] Sing this…

[2] What happens to the self if one of the main components used to define the self (feedback from others, social interaction etc) is effectively removed from the process? Is the self incomplete? Does it become wholly defined by self reflection? I don’t know. This is pointless. I should be playing basketball or dancing or doing social things right now. This is me.